Life, some say, is a journey but not a road. This one is precisely to do it. As soon as you departure you arrive, we get here and leave. We always begin again and always from strange places beyond our reality. Living is therefore a journey. By highlighting this verbal form we also highlight the concept of the action, and with this the freedom of life confronting the cold objectivity of a destiny, of laws, or of an ideological structure of history. This is the modern sense from the rebirth of life and the pilgrimage of living.

Continents have always been seen with fear. They are considered too big and complex. A continent is a world inside our world. Is an invention that we can consider as a child of the wildest imagination.

History only registers the discovery of a continent. Furthermore, this one was perceived by a miraculously mistake. In the same way as to Hernan Cortez, Francisco Pizzarro, and some others, America is eager to show us its true face. The one composed by many faces and a feeling that we suspect common but still have not known how to give a name to it.

In this particular case the route acquires a different shade because is not being made by Geologists or Archeologists. Is made by simple people with desires of knowing extraordinarily people that inhabit a wonderful continent.

We foresee the obstacles and for the same reason we conceive the possibility of this adventure. Beyond geographical and economical restrictions, this voyage pretends to be a route that conciliates the physical space with the internal space, the odyssey of Homer with the odyssey of James Joyce. It will add the driven kilometers and the lived experiences in order to leave an imprint on the road and in the soul of the travelers who dare to challenge sanity.